By now Kirisin and his companions were rushing up the slope toward the hot-air balloon, intent on getting away before the enemy got any closer. But even as they did so, they heard fresh shouts and cries from the trees to their right. The once-men had gone not just into the crater but around it, as well. In doing so, they had encountered the Trackers set to screen against any enemy approach, and the two forces were engaged in battle. Logan Tom, in the lead, called back to Kirisin and the others, urging them to hurry, to shift left, away from the fighting. Even as he did so, the boy saw movement in the trees ahead, shadowy forms scrambling to cut them off.
Simralin, trailing him by several steps, saw them, too. “Logan!” she called ahead, and at the sound of her voice the Knight of the Word immediately wheeled back.
In the next instant a small owl swooped down out of the trees, nearly colliding with Logan Tom, who flinched and then turned to watch the owl wheel away. Again, he started forward, and again the owl intercepted him, cutting him off.
He turned back this time and waited for the others to catch up before saying, “We have to change direction. The once-men are ahead of us. They must have begun encircling the city during the night. We can’t go forward. Take everyone left, Simralin, through those trees.”
He pointed to a towering stand of old growth that layered the earth beneath in shadows and climbed through an outcropping of rocks to the wall of the mountains.
“But the balloon is the other way!” Simralin insisted.
Logan shook his head, eyes shifting quickly, scanning the trees behind them. “We’ll have to leave it. They’ve probably found it. In any case, we can’t fill the air bag in time to make an escape. Do what I say.”
For just a second, Kirisin thought his sister was going to argue. She didn’t take orders easily. But Logan Tom was a Knight of the Word, and perhaps that proved the difference.
“Let’s go, little K,” she called to him.
They charged ahead once more. Behind them, Logan Tom was hanging back, protecting their rear. A scattering of figures burst from the trees. Elves. Trackers. Kirisin recognized Praxia and Ruslan. Then Que’rue and several more he knew appeared, as well.
Seconds later a wave of once-men charged into view, brandishing their weapons. One dropped to his knee and leveled a gun. Kirisin gave a short cry of warning, but Logan Tom was already bringing up the black staff. A blue bolt exploded from one end and sent the once-men flying backward. They landed in crumpled heaps and did not rise.
“Run!” he called up to the Elves, seeing them hesitate.
They did so, gaining the forest of old growth and rushing into its shadowy maze. They were not more than twenty strong, a small force against what appeared to be hundreds. Kirisin could see the movement of their shadows and hear the sounds of their approach. Farther down the slope, the battle between the Elven Hunters and the larger portion of the demon army had shifted from the crater into the trees and was moving their way, as well. The Elven lines were clearly broken, the weight of enemy numbers forcing the defenders to give way. How much longer they could stand against such a huge force was anybody’s guess, but Kirisin did not think there was much hope.
“Faster, Little K!” Simralin shouted in his ear, coming up on him all at once and giving him a hard shove.
He thought he was moving fast enough, but when Sim told him to go faster, he knew enough to do so. He redoubled his efforts, flying through the last of the trees. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of battle drawing nearer. When he risked a quick look over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of combatants flooding the forest, fighting on the run, the Elves falling back as quickly as they could, the once-men trying to bring them down. The gap between them was narrowing, and the Elves’ forward progress had slowed as they struggled through the forest debris. The way ahead, beyond the tangle, seemed open, but it was impossible to be certain. Dozens of hiding places lined their passage—fallen logs, clusters of boulders and heavy scrub. The Elven Trackers saw the danger. They closed about Kirisin protectively, carefully warding him on all sides as they tried to look everywhere at once.
An explosion from behind caused all of them to slow and turn. Blue fire flooded through gaps in the huge trees, a wall of flames that momentarily blocked the enemy pursuit. Logan Tom was creating a protective screen for the fleeing Elven Hunters, providing them a measure of relief from the enemy pursuit. He stood against the rush as long as he could, then turned and ran toward them, his black staff dotted with brightly glowing runes that pulsed like white-hot coals. The Knight’s face was dark with purpose, and his eyes were dangerous. Kirisin looked away as he swept by and took back the lead from the Elves.
“Just ahead!” he called out to them.
Moments later they reached a clearing in which an armored vehicle sat waiting. Logan Tom released the locks and opened the doors, beckoning for Kirisin to climb inside. “Belt yourself in tightly, Kirisin,” he told the boy. “This won’t be easy.”